


France’s Birthday ball

by Send_Help1945



Series: Russantica [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canada is a smol bean, England is a dapper pirate, F/M, France spends way too much money, France threw his own surprise party, France. just France., How Do I Tag, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Oneshot Series, Rated Teen because I'm paranoid, The Italys are Antarctica's brothers, We used Google Translate dont kill us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Send_Help1945/pseuds/Send_Help1945
Summary: France spent way too much on invitations





	France’s Birthday ball

If I were to summarize the entirety of this morning in a single sentence, it would be, ‘France spent too much on invitations’

 

So, the day was July 10th, four days till Francis’s birthday, nothing new. Happy celebrations and what not. 

 

But nooooooooooooooo, France had to go big this year. 

 

One giant freakin ball big.

 

What could ever go wrong?

 

~~[]~~[]~~

 

I walk into the place we were holding the meeting this time. Pretty gardens, blue sky with fluffy clouds, warm sun, the likes. I open the door and walk into the conditioned building. I walk into the meeting room, to be met with France. He and I were the first ones here.

 

“Oh, Bonjour France,” I say smiling.

 

“Bonjour Antarctica.” He says with his beautiful accent. (I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for it). He was wearing that purple cape…..cloak.

 

“It must be warm in that getup.” I giggle. He laughs with me.

 

“Speak for yourself.” He said pointing to my fuzzy leggings, coat, and sweater. I blush.

 

“H-hey! I get cold easily.” He laughs.

 

“Why of course  mademoiselle.” He says bowing, pulling a rose and an envelope out of nowhere.

 

“How do you do that!” I astonish. He laughs again.

 

“Magic of course,” France says, as I take the flower and paper. He swipes my hand and brushes a soft kiss across my knuckles.

 

“Why how could I forget,” I say rolling my eyes, taking my hand back. France’s violet/blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight as he stands up.

 

“Why the other’s should be here soon.” He says putting envelopes on everyone’s seat, including sweet smol Canada’s.

 

I sit down and pocket the envelope, snapping the stem on the rose a bit. I put the rose behind my ear and soon the other’s arrive. 

 

~~[]~~[]~~

 

I walk back to my apartment, feeling just a bit warmer. Germany and Italy were adorable today, getting all flustered at everything we mentioned about them. It ended well (for once). I humm as I walk down the road, to the small apartment I own here.

 

I get to the building and go inside. The envelope hits my leg, a reminder.  _ I wonder what it is _ . 

 

I open the door and walk inside. I make some tea and sit in my comfy armchair. “Okay France, let’s see what you’ve given me….” I open it to starchy white paper outlined in gold.

 

You are invited to 

France’s (Francis) birthday celebration

July 14th, at 7:00 pm

RSVP by July 12th

Invitations required for entrance

 

Birthday ball, formal attire required

 

I almost spit out my tea. I only thought one thing.

 

_ France spent too much on the invitations  _

 

I sigh, sitting back. A smile grows across my face. I guess I’ll go, it  _ was  _ the first time I’ve ever been invited to a ball of some kind. It might be fun. I put my cup on the table, along with the paper.

 

“I don’t have a dress though….” I groan, I would have to spend hundreds on something I would wear once.

 

“Oooooo damn you, Francis!” I sigh, grabbing my phone to call the hopeless romantic (it was his contact name).

 

“Hello France, about your birthday thing, ” I say. “Uh huh yes. Well, I don’t have a dress, fancy shoes, or any accessories. So the formal attire thing, I may just come in a dress I would wear on a date.”

 

“What?! You have this covered? You what….mmmmhmmm….Soooo I just wait till tomorrow for a package? You don’t have to do that France, I don’t need it- well….if you put it that way, fine.”

 

I sit back down, still ‘mmmhmm-ing’ into the phone. 

 

“Alright, thanks again. Goodbye.” I say before hanging up.  _ Oh dear… _

 

~~[]~~[]~~

 

The next day, four packages arrive, one is a dress (the large one…) one is shoes (semi-small) and the last one has to be a small accessory set. I take them inside, before opening the large package.

 

What I saw inside was the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. My phone buzzes, France.

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France): well? What do you think? You’ll look like French royalty in it. _

 

_ Me: my god France, you really didn’t have to, it’s beautiful. _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France): anything for you  _ _ ma chère. _

 

_ Me: haha. But thanks anyway, see you at your party then. (I’m so scared France >-<) _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France) _ _ : don’t be -3- _

 

_ Me: ...don’t do that _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France) _ _ : *laughs* of course  _ _ mademoiselle _

 

_ Me: *rolls eyes* whatever _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France): by the way  _ _ ma chère, I randomly selected escorts for everyone, you have England. So he’ll get to escort you.  _

 

_ Me: wow France. Thanks? _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France) _ _ : plus, people will arrive in pairs to make things a little less awkward on the way there. _

 

_ Me: uh huh. _

 

_ Hopeless Romantic (France) _ _ : ~w _ _ • _

 

Then I log off, staring at the boxes.  _ I’m gonna need a whole lotta help with this…  _ I think getting the boxes into my room. 

 

_ I’m gonna have to text Italy for help…. _ I think going to get my phone again. 

 

~~[]~~[]~~

 

Three things I did not know about Italy.

 

  1. He can mean if he wants to
  2. My god is he good with hair
  3. My brother has better fashion sense than I do...



 

So here I am, alone in my room, in the underclothes of a dress, struggling to put it on. Italy left a couple minutes before, (he was Germany’s escort ;3) leaving me to put this monstrosity on.

 

I pull it on (without messing up my hair!) and adjust it, the size was perfect (how France got my clothes and shoe sizes I don’t wanna know). And France was right, I felt and looked like royalty.

 

I sit down and do slight touches with the makeup I had. Then I clipped a necklace on. “Antarctica? Are you ready yet?” I hear Arthur ask.

 

“Almost!” I say, shaking my curled hair out. A large (fake) gold clip was in the back of my hair, Italy was amazing, I do admit it.

 

I slip into my gold flats and take a breath, opening the door. England looks up and his eyes widen at my appearance.

 

My dress was an azure, with the underskirt as a pretty light sky blue (a few shades darker than my hair). Gold trimmed the hem and the end part of the sleeve. The collar was also a gold colour. The clip and shoes matched. It poofed out around my ankles, in a pretty way.

 

Boy did France have taste.

 

He was quite dashing in a suit (not military related). He had black dress pants and a coat to match. His shirt was a light turquoise colour. And his tie was a cream colour. On his hands were dark navy blue gloves. 

 

“My my….you look handsome now don’t you?” I say. He smiles.

 

“And you look….well beautiful is putting it lightly I’m afraid. Captivating or bewitching is more like it.” He says, as my face goes red.

 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” I say flustered.

 

“It’s true m’lady, now, may I escort you to the ball tonight?” He says bowing. I curtsy.

 

“Why of course good sir, I would be delighted,” I say, playing along. He laughs, escorting me out of the apartment. 

 

We get into his car and start off, I stare out of the window, at the sun starting to set. England was talking to someone named, ‘Flying Mint Bunny’. It was hard to believe this man was a pirate once, but his antics were cute sometimes.

 

The car stops in front of a mansion. “Geez. France went all out.” I said looking at it.

 

“Damn frog, trying to one-up me,” England mutters.

 

“Oh stop that, be nice tonight!” I say, shoving his shoulder a bit.

 

“Fine. Miss Stella, welcome to France Frog’s party, shall I escort you inside?” He said, ever the gentleman.

 

“Why Sir Arthur, I would be delighted!” I say, and he helps me out of the car. I hold onto his elbow as we make our way up the stairs.

 

“Want to know something?” He whispers to me.

 

“What?” I say back.

 

“Russia’s one lucky bloke.” He says back. I turn my face, my cheeks turning pink.

 

“Indeed he is.” I murmur, as we go through the front door, presenting out invitations. We’re let in and I let go of England.

 

“You first!” I said with a little shove, England laughs, going up to the announcer.

 

“Sir Arthur Kirkland.” The announcer person says. England nods before going down the steps. I take a breath and walk up to the man myself.

 

“Stella. Stella Aurora.” I say. The man nods, before turning back.

 

“The Lady Stella Aurora.” He says in his booming voice.  _ So formal France. _ I think, gliding down the stairs. I see the other countries, America waves at me. I smile back, finally making it to the floor. 

 

“This place is huge!” I murmur, looking at the chandeliers. I walk over to the others, my dress swishing with every step.

 

“Ahh! Stella, you look so beautiful!” Italy says, I smile.

 

“Aww thank you! You look dashing Italy, oh and Germany I like what you did with your hair.” I say, causing Germany to laugh. Prussia was teasing Hungary, Spain was trying to mess up Romano’s hair, and Russia looked nervous.

 

“It is beautiful tonight, no?” France asks, sweeping down beside me.

 

“Cheese and crackers! You’re just as bad as England!” I say jumping. He scoffs.

 

“Oh please don’t loop me in the same boat of that Englishman.” I giggle, the rivalry still going on, even now.

 

“Oh please. But  да , it is beautiful.” I say. France winks.

 

“Not as beautiful as you  mademoiselle.” He said kissing my knuckles. I think I hear a ‘kolkolkol’ but I can’t be sure. 

 

“Aww stop that!” I laugh. He laughs with me, walking over to the others. I turn around to Russia.

 

And might I say,

 

Oh

 

My 

 

God

 

He was in a navy blue suit, with a silver tie (he had a collar covering his neck, which was a bit strange). His shirt was a grey colour, and he didn’t have his scarf on (for once).

 

“Y-you look…” I stutter, at a loss for words. He was handsome, to put it lightly. His hair was bushed around his face, and his eyes glittered with anger and amusement. 

 

“Handsome,  да?” He asks. 

 

“Putting it lightly,” I say, my face going pink. You really don’t see him out of his coat and scarf often. 

 

Made me want to kiss hi-

 

Wait.

 

Where did that come from?   
  


My face burns brighter, as we hear a ‘ohohoho’ from the birthday man. “Shut up France!” I yell. He laughs harder, with America. I bury my face in my hands.

 

Russia tilts my head up with two fingers. “Don’t look down and waste that breathtaking face  да?” He says smiling. I look at my feet, before looking up at him.

 

“Да, ” I say. He takes my hands.

 

“ПОТАНЦУЙ со мной? {dance with me}” He asks, not expecting me to answer.

 

“Конечно! мне бы очень хотелось. { Of course! I would love to }” I say in perfect Russian. He looks taken aback, same with all the others (except Italy and Romano.)

 

He leads me out on the floor, and France gives me a suggestive look, I glare. A waltz starts up and I smile, as he puts his hand on my back, by my waist. Then he grabs my hand as I put my other arm around his neck. 

 

The music starts up and he leads. “Wow. France really did go all out this year, but it’s not tacky.” I say, trying to start up some conversation.

 

“Да he did, ” Russia says, making me laugh (for some reason). We keep chatting like that until the dance ends. Then he leads me out into the gardens.

 

“What’s this for?” I ask.

 

“I wanted to get you alone….without the others.” He said, and I swear I could see a purple aura around him.

 

“Aww come on. France and I just joke around, no need to be like that.” I say softly. I look down, curls falling in front of my eyes. 

 

I see him smile softly at me. “And if he wasn’t then I’ll take your magic metal pipe of pain and whack him with it.” I joke. 

 

We both laughed lightly before the area fell into a comfortable silence. We were both just looking into each others’ eyes, to an outsider it would have probably looked very weird. After a minute we slipped out of our daze and he led me towards the stone fountain in the garden. As we sat down we started stargazing and pointing out constellations we recognise. 

 

“Sure, the stars are beautiful, but they’re nothing compared to the ones I see in your eyes.” That was the one thing I WAs NoT expecting. My face goes red. 

 

“I-I…..wha,” I tried to stutter out a reply, my face as red as one of Spain’s tomatoes.

 

“Hey, you bastard, get away from my little sister.” I sighed as I heard a very Romano-like yell from the doorway inside. The yelling attracted the attention of the other Italian brother, and after he saw what was happening, pulled Romano away by his ear. When the door opened for a moment when the younger was dragging his brother back inside, we heard some very French yelling, Drunken British rambling, a couple very American and Prussian laughs, and a hopeless attempt to get everyone to calm down, by a Canadian. 

 

As soon as the door closed my face was pulled up by two fingers, and I was pulled into a kiss that felt, almost natural. 

 

We pulled away when I heard an “Aww” and quickly retreating footsteps from behind the bushes that sounded peculiarly like Hungary.

 

I only now realised how cold I was as I felt a shiver run down my spine. France might have great fashion taste, but it isn’t the most practical. I felt a coat drape over my shoulders as I was pulled into another kiss. 


End file.
